


December 16 - 9 nervous  Nazgûl

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Multi-Age, Other - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2005-12-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3744485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today's writing "mathom" is:</p><p>nine nervous  Nazgûl</p><p>***</p><p>Write whatever you feel like – a drabble, a poem or a short story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Employee Review - by Raksha

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

EMPLOYEE REVIEW  
  
  
  
  
Angmar, the mighty First among the Nine, skulked out of the  Presence as if he had been kicked.  By a Mumak.  
  
"Your turn now"  Seventh told Fourth.  
  
"N-n-no; do not make me."  Fourth whined.  
  
"Such a crybaby" Third  said scornfully.  "Come, Second,  shall we set the example?"  
  
"This time, you may have the sole advantage"  Second replied,  and stepped behind Third.  
  
"Hsssst, what a lot of ninnies, one would think you were still  Men"  Third spoke scornfully.  Sixth and Fifth shivered, holding  clawlike hands together in an attitude that looked disgustingly prayerful.   Ninth hung back, with bowed head; and Eighth had curled up in the corner,  sucking his bony thumb.    
  
Third squared what remained of his shoulders and strode into the  room of the Presence.  There, he bowed low before the throne of their dread  lord.  
  
The black shimmer that bespoke Sauron's living Presence emitted a disturbingly pleasant voice.  "Ah, it's Third, is it not?"  
  
"Yes, dread Lord."  
  
"Is it really true that while Sixth through Ninth were lost in the  woods somewhere, you and the others managed to let my Ring slip from your grasp  on that miserable hill?"  
  
"We were opposed, dread Lord."  
  
"Ah…yes"  Cold laughter emanated from the Presence.   "Opposed.  By four witless halflings and a lone Ranger."  
  
Third would have liked to suggest that his dread Lord face that  particular lone Ranger.   But then, his dread Lord did not have to  wear robes and mantles that could catch fire from a brand wielded rather  fiercely by that vicious West-Man.  And to speak up would have  been…unwise.  
  
Too late! The Presence read his mind.  Third quailed inwardly  as his dread Lord chuckled again in an even more menacing tone.  "I  will  indeed face that meddlesome Ranger one day.  He and his accursed  people shall all perish after I retake my Ring.  Which you failed to seize,  even when the thieving Shire-rat practically handed it to you by putting it  on his finger."  
  
"Forgive your Servant, most Dread Lord"  Third asked, rather  stiffly.  He wondered if Angmar had weaseled out of the blame for the  debacle, what lies the First of the Nazgul had told their master.    
  
"Mmm.  Not today, Third."  The tone of his dread Lord's  voice was soft now, almost purring, which surely promised merry hell to  pay.  "I think it is time for you to undertake a Positive Motivation  Seminar."  
  
Not that!  Suddenly, the pride of centuries failed  him.   Third moaned.  "Oh dread Lord, no!  Be merciful to  thy minion."  He dropped quickly to his knees, which creaked at the sudden  pressure.    
  
"Oh, Gothmog!"  The Presence whistled.  The chief of  Barad-dur Employee Relations, a large Orc, bounded into the chamber and grinned  toothily.  "Escort Third of Nine to the White Room."  
  
Sweet Darkness!  "No.  Please.  I shall hack off the  heads of a hundred West-Men in your honor, dread Lord."  
  
"Too late; Angmar already promised.   Gothmog, take  him."    
  
No escape.  Third heaved himself up, and followed the smiling  Orc, his own teeth chattering in anticipated terror.    
  
The Orc led Third into a room with ghastly white walls, and chained  him into a stone chair.  Gothmog then moved to the center of the room,  where was mounted their Lord's great black Seeing-Stone.  The Orc bore down  on the palantir, which hummed to life, fire flashing in its depths.  Third  began to thrash in terror.    
  
Unbearably cheerful sounds trilled out of the stone, assaulting  Third's senses like the cacophony of birds.  He was undone!    Third wailed out his misery as he heard the notes of pure goodness in a distant  song, captured and relayed by  Morgoth-knew-what-truly-foul-devilry:  
  
  
Hey dol!  merry dol!  Ring a dong dillo!  
Ring a  dong!  hop along!  fal lal the willow!  
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom  Bombadillo!  
  



	2. Fear - by RiverOtter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's writing "mathom" is:

Fear  
  
Trapped by angry Ents  
Nine black cloaks flying in wind  
Nervous Nazgul hide  
  
Summoned by Sauron  
Ebony horses quaking  
Nervous Nazgul blanch


	3. Worth the Risk - by Gwynnyd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's writing "mathom" is:

Parts of Barad-dur stood, though Sauron no longer inhabited it.  The Dark Lord gave them power, enslaved them, deserted them.  _He_ gathered them together in the chaos following Sauron's downfall, when they would have scattered, half of them wandering witless in the bright sunlight.  Their rings - _his_ ring was somewhere in the rubble of the tower.  He lusted to wield it for his own purposes, and not feel Sauron's overriding will bending him.  They were afraid still and would crawl if their master required it.  But if _he_ held his ring… he stilled his nerves, and drove them forward.  
 __  
"At length he resolved that no others would serve him in this case but his mightiest servants, the Ringwraiths, who had no will but his own, being each utterly subservient to the ring that had enslaved him, which Sauron held."  
  
Unfinished Tales, Part 3, Ch 4, The Hunt for the Ring: Of the Journey of the Black Riders  
  
  



	4. Untitled - by Wolfwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's writing "mathom" is:

_This one might need a bit of introduction.  It's a piece of my never-written, probably AU story explaining what Radagast did during the Ring War.  I call it AU because Gandalf makes Radagast sound like, "Oh, no! Nazgul!  I have to go hide under a rock!" and my Radagast doesn't, but I think it basically fits with canon._  
  
This piece relies on the not-uncanonical (to my knowledge) idea that birds and beasts fought in the wars between the Valar and Morgoth, and that good creatures worship Yavanna.  It takes place after the Nine are unhorsed in the river and are making their way back to Mordor.  I think it should make sense knowing that much.  
  
  
They enter the clearing.  I chirp softly, alerting my followers.  
  
They pause, shadows slinking toward areas of darkness, avoiding the starlight.  They have learned to be nervous when day-birds call at night. Good.  
  
We are birds of the light, as the Brown One reminded us.  Our people fought with the Powers in the Great Wars of the past.  Today the Brown One filled us with the light of the Bird-mother, our patron, and gave us this chance to reconfirm our allegiance.  
  
I sound the attack.  Our cries echo off the trees as the host of sparrows shoots toward the shadows.  
  



	5. Eru Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - by Agape4Gondor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today's writing "mathom" is:

## Eru Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

In Gondor there are gentlemen   
Arrayed as Knights in glory   
In the Shire there are Halflings   
Who love a good night story.   
In Rohan there are Rohirrim   
Who love their horses more – y   
And – all come to Crickhollow for a bath, for a bath   
And – all come to Crickhollow for a bath.   
('bout time some would say of a certain Ranger)   
  
In Lothlorien the Elves lay low   
They never pass their borders.   
In Rivendell Lord Elrond's folks   
Tell tales of Mordor's   
Fell beasts, ringwraiths, and wraiths on wings   
All kinds of foul, stinking Lord – ors   
And – Galadriel she brings her pitcher full, pitcher full   
And – Galadriel she brings her pitcher full.   
  
In the Barrow-downs the barrow wights   
Have all conspired to kill us.   
And Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth   
Is not above a bit of fuss   
He wants the throne, he needs the throne   
Though Denethor his name will cuss   
And – fire and water do not mix, do not mix   
And – fire and water do not mix   
  
So - Eru rest ye merry gentlemen   
And all the Elves together   
And Hobbits too – must not forget   
That through all kinds of weather   
**_Nine nervous Nazgûl_** do what they can   
To make the Dark Lord happy.   
Including taking baths with anything nasty, anything nasty.   
Including taking baths with anything nasty.   
  
(Left out a character Or two or three or four – forgive me!   
Ents – walking tall - I've missed the lot   
Oh and Dwarves – I'm very sorry - Beornings, Maier, Wild Men,   
Orcs – spiders – Urak-hai –   
But I'll drop down dead before I say anything about that Gollum-y creature, Gollum-y creature)   
Yes, I'll drop down dead before I say anything about that Gollum.)


End file.
